


Million Reasons

by That_chump



Series: Haikyuu Song Fic Collection [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Porn With Plot, References to Depression, Smut, hella angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:14:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27955232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_chump/pseuds/That_chump
Summary: Left in Matsukawa’s wake, you find yourself struggling to come to terms with your break up. Everything reminds you of him. From the sheets that smell like him, to something as simple as coffee.After everything, you know you should let him go, but you can’t help but search for reasons to stay.(Highly recommend reading the first part, Falling)
Relationships: Matsukawa Issei/Reader
Series: Haikyuu Song Fic Collection [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038762
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Million Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s part two for my song fic collection, as promised! 
> 
> This one is Million Reasons, Lady Gaga of course (https://youtu.be/WYRJ-ryPEu0).  
> Despite it endlessly being played on the radio in the car and at work, I can always jam to it. I think it’s a nice follow up to Harry Styles’ Falling!
> 
> Once again, I’d recommend reading ‘Falling’ before diving into this one, for context mostly. Though I think it might be a little cohesive without it.

It had been a long week, and you found yourself mindlessly going through your days. 

You rely entirely on muscle memory to carry you through daily tasks and basic human needs, but barely have an appetite to finish meals or the energy to leave the house. 

You haven’t seen Matsukawa or heard from him since your ‘break up’, you’d only gotten confirmation from Hanamaki that he ended up staying at his place. 

After the first day, you noticed Matsukawa had picked up some of his things when you came back from work. 

The closet you shared was emptier, stray coat hangers and missing sweaters and tees. You’re ashamed to admit that you slept in one of his tee shirts that night. 

Wrapped up in his scent between his shirt and the sheets, you were able to wake up the next morning in your sleepy haze, believing that it never happened. That Matsukawa hadn’t said any of it. 

If only you said more, told him all the things that he needed to hear. But any words of encouragement went out of his head, and no amount of I love you’s would get through to him.

And as the week progressed with radio silence, the intrusive thoughts in your head began to convince you that he might have meant everything he said. 

You told yourself otherwise, that he just needs a break to sort everything out himself. He just wasn’t in the right state of mind when he snapped at you, he hadn’t been for months. Matsukawa struggled to love himself as much as he did you, and though you tried to support him, he wouldn’t accept it. 

You lay back in the empty sheets, lonely sigh bouncing off the walls into white noise. 

You already miss being wrapped up in the sheets with him, whispering in each other’s ears and laughing about nothing. You’ve missed it for awhile now, but now that he’s not here the longing sits heavier on your chest. 

You’d noticed the signs, Matsukawa had started to lack affection and his depressive episodes became more frequent. You thought you were acknowledging them, but every time he brushed you aside, you stepped down so easily. 

Every time he interrupted your concerns with a subject change, you accepted it. You’d confront him later, you always told yourself. 

Curling into your side, arms aching to wrap around him, you fret yourself over things you should’ve and could’ve done. 

After tossing and turning, you’re finally able to drift to sleep, caught in the dream of a memory. 

“Welcome home!”

You cheer, when Matsukawa arrives home from work. 

You’d been used to serving food at the restaurant, but not cooking it. You’re grateful Matsukawa at least knew his way around a kitchen, you mostly aided him to the best of your abilities. But tonight, you wanted to make sure a meal was sitting at the table when he arrived. 

Despite your underwhelming talents in the kitchen, you’d researched recipes to prepare his favorite hamburg steak. 

Admittedly, you played the recipe video back about six times after every direction to make sure you were doing it right. 

But you’re pretty confident how it turned out, and you repeated the process with several other dishes he liked, all in time for his arrival home. 

You’d even spent the day cleaning and organizing. Even though it wasn’t your designated cleaning day, you wanted him to come home to a brighter apartment. 

You’d decorated the walls with photographs that the printing place finished earlier. High school photos from Hanamaki line the wall, mostly of their volleyball team, as well as photos of you and Matsukawa together. 

You got caught up sorting through the old pictures of Matsukawa, excitedly giggling at his younger face, his hair style then, how lanky he was, same thick eyebrows. 

You almost thought you hadn’t given yourself enough time to prepare the food. 

When the front door swings open, you set off a party popper, just for the sake of being extra. Simultaneously, you scare the living shit out of Matsukawa.

“Woah! What is all this?”

Overcoming the initial surprise, his eyes flick around the room. His arms outstretched, you accept the hug eagerly as he peers at you with curiosity. 

“It’s not our anniversary. Or my birthday. Or your birthday. What’s going on babe? Are you pregnant—“

He mentally ticks off important dates, before his eyes blow wide at his own assumption. 

“No, no. Nothing like that, silly. You’ve been working so hard at your new job, I figured I’d reward you for it!”

You slide your hands up to link behind his neck, attempting to tug him closer as you straighten your posture. 

He laughs, leaning down to meet your awaiting kiss. Your lips feel warm against his, and you can feel him unable to resist smiling into the kiss. 

Matsukawa’s hands move to caress your hair, he separates momentarily to read your expression. 

You open your eyes and peek through your lashes to see his warm gaze. 

Ever since he had to work at the funeral home for his father, his mood had plummeted. 

It was completely understandable, his goals and aspirations were put on the back burner. 

And when he was told he needed to take over the business entirely, the dreams he worked tirelessly for were completely out of his reach. 

Needless to say, he’d been despondent. For awhile, nothing you could say could pull him out of it. 

But day by day, he grew accustomed to it, even told you things he started to like about the seemingly grim business. 

Even though he managed to find a silver lining, it never brought him back to his usual self. 

So seeing the light in his eyes and his rosy cheeks made you beam with pure, unadulterated, joy. 

“I’m so proud of you, Issei.”

You mumble, words dancing across his lips, and he thanks you with a contented expression, running his thumb softly across your cheekbone. 

He reconnects your lips into another gentle kiss, and you easily find yourself lost in it. 

Despite complaining about how cold he is all the time, he radiates warmth, and it encompasses you wholly. 

He trails his hand down your cheek, slotting his thumb and fingers to either side of your jaw. 

When you feel the soft pressure of his fingers, you open your mouth at the gesture, and he doesn’t hesitate to slide his tongue against yours. 

Threading your fingers through his curls, you hear the softest moan of satisfaction from him. As your hot tongues slick together, you drag your nails from his hair, down his neck, broad shoulders, to his chest. 

You pop open the buttons of his collar with relative ease, but as your excitement grows the difficulty of the task increases. 

Matsukawa’s arm wraps around your middle, pressing you close to his body. He rests his free hand to the back of your neck, and to accommodate your tight proximity you tilt your head back. 

Bodies now flushed together, you feel the heat exchanging and rising between the two of you, and he hasn’t stopped attacking your mouth for a moment. 

Matsukawa bites your bottom lip softly, teasingly, and his mouth covers the gasp that threatens to escape your lips. 

He presses a knee between your legs, and you stagger back. 

“Ah,”

You separate momentarily, 

“Fuck,”

He grunts out as your bottom hits the edge of the dining table. His palm quickly flattens against the surface of it while using his other arm to maintain your balance. 

“Sorry, I got a little excited there.”

He mutters close to your face, but the clatter of the plates at the table echoes in your ears. The noise winds up bringing you out of your haze, back to your senses. 

“Ahhhh! The food is getting cold!”

You press your hands to his chest, and he lets you push him off with minor hesitation. 

“Mmm, and we were getting to the good part.”

He sighs, running his hand through his dark hair. 

“We can get to the good part later! We need to eat before all the food dies!”

You settle at one end of the table, and he smiles taking his seat across you. 

“This part is just as good too...”

He comments, making you flush as he helps himself, his eyes practically glitter at the meal you worked so hard to prepare. 

“I can’t fuck you as good if I’m running on empty, anyways.”

You sputter at his brazen comment, and by the look on his face you can tell he feels zero shame. 

“Issei!”

Your cheeks brighten, and he holds a piece of steak up to your lips as a peace offering. 

“Kidding.”

You know he’s absolutely not kidding, but you accept it nonetheless, laughing with a blush after getting over the initial shock value. 

You banter and laugh through the meal, blushing at all the praise he gives you for your cooking. It leaves you satisfied that your efforts payed off and he enjoyed everything. 

When you clean up the table, you try to convince him to let you do the dishes yourself. 

“I’ll take care of it! Don’t worry,”

You collect the plates on your arms with practiced ease, despite not working at the restaurant anymore you can still balance everything perfectly. 

“You cooked, I should clean.” 

Matsukawa insists, of course, and he’s much stronger than you so you don’t resist (much) when he takes the plates from your hands. 

In the end, due to your excessive pouting and puppy eyes, you compromise by cleaning the dishes like you two normally do. Side by side at the sink together, elbows brushing occasionally. 

The domesticity of doing a regular household chore together with Matsukawa makes your heart feel full. 

When you leave the kitchen, you catch him staring fondly at the photos of the both of you, newly framed and hung. 

“I like how this one came out.”

You point out your favorite one. You were a brand new couple then, eager to impress each other and afraid to mess things up.

Matsukawa wraps his arms around you, pressing his front to your back. He rests his chin at the top of your head, and you hold his hands softly and lean back into the touch. 

You take the next opportunity to roast the fuck out of Hanamaki’s haircut in high school, pointing at the old Seijou volleyball team photos. 

“Maybe that’s why he put up a fight when I asked for them.”

You snicker, he didn’t look... bad. But it was certainly a contrast to his K-Pop reminiscent hair style now. 

“How’d you manage to convince him?”

“I told him I’d just ask Oikawa for pictures instead, and Hanamaki immediately said he could find some for me.”

Matsukawa snorts at your response, knowing exactly what your play was,

“You’re pretty evil. I’m positive Oikawa has a stockpile of team photos where he’s the only one that looks good.”

“Really? Should I text him now for some?”

“Please don’t.”

“Mmmm, I’ll let it slide. But only for tonight.”

You tease, and you feel the laughter rumble from his chest. 

When you make your way to the bedroom, the both of you make good on your promise before dinner. 

Matsukawa is quick to press you into the mattress, lips back against yours. 

Before you get too excited, you make sure to finish unbuttoning the rest of his dress shirt this time. 

You don’t trust yourself enough to be able to do the job right later, especially now that his hot breath is trailing past your jawline down to your neck. 

The feeling combined with his tongue now laving at the junction between your neck and shoulder sends a shockwave down your spine. 

You arch into him, just barely muffling the noises behind your lips shut tight. 

“I wanna hear it all, baby,”

Matsukawa whispers against your neck, sliding his hand up to grab your chin. His thumb presses against your bottom lip, and you open your mouth obediently. 

He’s careful not to leave any marks behind, despite how badly he wants to. But recalling how you scolded him fairly recently for the discolored bruises in obvious places, during the summertime no less (where it’s impossible to wear scarves or turtlenecks, apparently), made him think twice.

The feel of his hot breath ghosting across your neck makes you sigh with pleasure. You make a noise of upset when he pulls away, lips turning down into a pout. 

Your disappointment doesn’t last for long, when you see him shrugging his dress shirt the rest of the way off. 

Your eyes catch his broad shoulders, traveling down to his abdomen, and you thank god for high school volleyball for giving him a routine as you trail your hands across his chest to his abs. 

“You’re so hot it hurts.”

You whine out, pouting as he chuckles. 

“Oh, it’s gonna hurt for sure.”

You know he’s just teasing, and you roll your eyes. 

Matsukawa wouldn’t hurt you if he could help it, you’d have to beg for it before he did anything remotely close to harming you. 

“You’re full of it.”

“Hey, I’ve got a big dick and the attitude to back it up.”

He shrugs, slipping his fingers under the bottom of your shirt. 

You laugh at the route your conversation turned. 

At least he didn’t say something like ‘You’re about to be full’.

You aid him tugging your shirt overhead,

“You really do though.”

And you can feel said ‘big dick’ pressing against you when he leans back down to kiss you. 

The first time you saw it, released from the confines of his unbuckled pants, you thought instantly that it wasn’t going to fit. His briefs and pants dropped to the floor along with your jaw. 

And you’d never thought something so ridiculous before, but that was how big Matsukawa’s dick was. 

But he took things slow, let you grow accustomed to him, and only fucked you hard into the mattress when you cried for it. 

Matsukawa is proud of it to this day, and you’ve never told another soul, but he wound up putting you out of commission the next day. 

You had to call in a favor for Iwasaki to cover your shift because there was no way you’d be getting in thousands of steps at work after the night you had. 

Snapping you out of your thoughts, you moan against Matsukawa’s mouth when he grinds against your lower half. 

The two of you have gained a lot of experience in the bedroom over the course of your relationship, attuned to everything the other likes and dislikes, and what feels best for the other. 

And Matsukawa is able to find the right spot and angle to grind his hips into you, and he does so with practiced ease. 

As much as you love the feeling of his hard on pressing through his slacks and your shorts, the friction and pressure driving you wild,

“You’re wearing to much.”

You break the kiss with a whine. 

“You’re wearing just as much as me.”

He laughs, but doesn’t wait another moment longer to pull your shorts down. 

You raise your knees to make the task easier, and he tosses the garment aside carelessly. It falls to the floor to join your previously discarded shirt,

“Hey, I worked hard to clean today you know,”

You tease, as he makes quick work of his belt and his own pants.

“I’m sorry, babe. Do you want me to fold it as I go?”

He laughs lightly, pulling his slacks down. 

You wonder in the mean time how he’s able to get undressed in bed without looking awkward. 

He actually starts to fold them, and you snatch the fabric from his hands with a laugh, tossing it to join the rest of the clothes. 

“I was kidding, just hurry up and kiss me!”

You pull him back to meet you in another searing kiss, and he laughs against your lips, pressing you back into the sheets. 

Your banter is quickly forgotten, in favor of hot mouths and tongues getting reacquainted. 

He snaps your bra and you meet his satisfied smirk with a glare, but the bite is lacking due to your lust addled state. He unclasps the hooks easier than you can yourself, but before you can feel jealous of his skill he’s slipping the lingerie off. 

He’s sure to give your breasts the same attention your mouth received, licking and biting gently. 

Matsukawa’s fingers trail down your side, the touch so light it’s almost nonexistent, until his hand is slipping past your panties to the wet heat behind them. 

“Issei,”

You gasp, body tensing on reflex at the touch, and he tucks his face back into your neck with calming words of reassurance. 

You sigh contently when his fingers slip inside, giving a few slow thrusts. 

Your hips arch into his hand, and he bites your neck, causing you to moan out his name once more. 

“You’re so wet baby. Were you waiting all night for this?”

Not trusting your voice, you nod with a hum, threading your fingers through his hair. 

“Hm? You’re usually so good with your words,”

He clicks his tongue, pumping his fingers at a slow and teasing pace,

“Slow, or faster? Use your words baby.”

There’s that hot breath against your neck that sends shivers throughout you, and the pet name that warms your body in an instant. 

“F-Faster, please!”

He smiles against your skin, kissing up to your jaw. 

“You even said please, good girl.”

He praises, increasing his pace. The sounds become embarrassingly loud, and you can hear what he’s doing to you as well as feel it to your core. 

You gasp out when he presses his thumb to your clit, hands dropping to find purchase on his back. The bundle of nerves so suddenly abused sends your back arching off the mattress. 

“I-Issei, please, I think I’m ready—“

And with that, he slips his hands out and tugs the flimsy garment down your legs. 

Your body misses the feeling of his long and slender fingers deep inside you, but you know very well that his cock can reach the places his fingers can’t. 

And though you love the way the dark under armour briefs look hugging his thighs, barely concealing his hard on, you’re way more excited to see them coming off. 

You let out a gasp when he hikes your leg up his shoulder, and you’re physically brought back into the moment when he lines up his erection against your slick folds. 

He rocks his hips gently against them, cock sliding just outside your heat. His voice sounds thick with anticipation and lust,

“Ready?”

You love how even now he’s still looking to you for permission, and you nod eagerly,

“God yes, just do it, Issei.”

And with that he slowly pushes his cock inside you with a low moan. Your jaw slackens, and your eyes screw shut with a moan of your own. 

You swear, every time it feels like he’s splitting you open. But his fingers and care from earlier certainly helps, and you feel your walls accommodating the width of his girth as he slowly pushes in. 

It’s tight, it always is with him, but you love the feeling of being so full of him. 

He pauses when he’s nearly fully in, and you peek up to catch his hesitant expression. 

“Keep going, babe,”

You instruct with a pant, your raised leg and hips shaking despite your wishes. 

He smooths his hand over your thigh up to your knee, waiting for it to subside while he gently pets caresses your skin. 

When your body arches for more contact, he decides to push all the way in. 

You’re panting, and it’s barely started. Sweat drops down Matsukawa’s brow in concentration, and you internally praise him for his willpower to not absolutely plow you when you know he really wants to. 

“How are you feeling?”

His other hand traces at your hip, thumb brushing gentle circles. 

“I’m good, how are you?”

Your lidded eyes catch his and he laughs at the mundane response. 

“Ready for me to absolutely rail you?”

If you could muster any excess energy, you might even roll your eyes at him,

“Just shut up and fuck me.”

“Anything for you, darling.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, the sweetness of the action contrasting heavily with the indecent things he’s about to do to you. 

He quickly busies himself with the task of ‘shutting up’ and ‘fucking you’, though with the rough moans slipping out of his mouth he’s not sure he could even tease you properly. 

He feels a surge of pride at the delighted noises coming from your pretty lips, and he eats them up with a kiss. 

You keen when the leg you have hooked on his shoulder presses to your chest to accommodate the kiss, his pace not faltering as he thrusts his hips to yours. 

“I-Issei!”

And you can tell by the way he speeds up he loves the way you call his name so impassioned, and despite his increased tempo he remains attentive. 

It’s when you feel his fingers back to abuse your clit in tight circles that you immediately start meeting his thrusts sloppily, not quite aligning with his rhythm. 

Your mind (and body) is so full of Matsukawa, you don’t think you can concentration on matching his pace properly, but your sloppy thrusts at least give you a shred of the satisfaction your body is desperately craving. 

Various iterations of his name spill out of your mouth, alongside other blissful noises. 

In your hazy vision you take in the the man before you. The sheen of sweat covering his neck, his chest, abs, catching the dim lighting. 

Every part of your body is practically bouncing as he pushes you harder into the mattress, his thrusts unforgiving and unrelenting. 

Your eyes screw shut for a moment as you cry at a few consecutive thrusts where his cock hit deep, but you glance back so you can catch his expression. 

His brows are knit tight in concentration, eyes fixed shut, lips parted occasionally for every curse and moan that escapes him. 

And when it all becomes too much for you, his cock pushed as far as it can go, if not farther, his fingers keeping up their mission to stimulate your overly sensitive clit, his other hand gripping your hip tightly, your nails raking across his back, every sound filling your ears whether it’s from his lips or your bodies, you throw your head back with a cry. 

“Come with me baby—“

Matsukawa voice is rough and hot, he thrusts deeper than you thought possible. Your name falls from his lips, soft flesh red from biting. 

He presses his palm beside your head, creating an indent to the mattress. In the process, he catches your hair as he grips the sheets, balancing himself on a shaking arm. 

You arch into him, hot skin pressing to hot skin.

White hot flashes over you when you feel his body shaking, painting practically your guts with his release as he pants and moans above you. 

And it throws you headfirst into your own euphoric release. 

And against better judgement, you cry out,

“Mattsun!”

Matsukawa’s dark eyes, hazy with lust and the satisfaction of release, immediately blow wide with momentary confusion. 

“What the fuck—”

He scrambles off of you in a disoriented haste, and the bed dips when he presses his knees beside you on the mattress. 

“What the fuck was that?”

He growls out, but it sounds more like a cry, or maybe a whine. 

You can’t help but laugh at his reaction, stifling it behind your palm as you will your aching body to sit upright,

“I-I’m sorry!”

You’re still laughing, and his glare eases when he sees your rosy cheeks, watching your shoulders shake with mirth. 

“Thanks, my dick is completely soft now.”

“You wanted to go again? You have work early tomorrow.”

“I might’ve stayed up for another round. But now we’ll never know, because of that stunt you just pulled.”

He pinches your nose, and you have the audacity to giggle as he grabs a stray towel to clean you up. 

Pitching it with a perfect arc into a bin across the room, he lays back beside you grumbling something about your aforementioned audacity. 

Even though he was mildly distressed by the prank you pulled in the throes of passion, he still made sure to clean you himself. 

You turn on your side with a wide, blushing smile, wrapping your arm around his middle. 

“I can’t believe you’d use that nickname. And while I’m cumming, too.”

He complains again, grudgingly slinging his arm around you. 

“Oikawa always calls you that, and you never let me use it when we first met. I thought it would be funny to try it then.”

“Right. As much as I’d love to talk about Oikawa in the afterglow of our mind blowing sex—“

“You would?”

You snort, and he rolls his eyes,

“No. Honestly, I wish I could convey to you how much I don’t want to do that.”

The sour look he sends you makes another laugh bubble up.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Issei. You just... have seemed so down lately. I wanted to do something special for you, and make you laugh.”

“You thought something special would be using one of that guy’s crappy nicknames during hot sex?”

You slap his chest lightly when he raises a skeptical brow, deciding to ignore for now how he verbally sidestepped your concerns with a jest. 

“No, I meant the dinner, and the pictures. That was just so you could look back and laugh!”

You pout, feeling the rumbling from his chest as a laugh escapes his lips. 

“Ahh, now I can look back on the night my beautiful girlfriend made a special dinner, and decorated our apartment with lovely photos. And when I had sex with her she called out the terrible nickname one of my best friends gave me.”

“Issei!”

You drag out each syllable of his name with a cry, of course when he says it like that it sounds more like a bad idea. 

“I know, I’m just teasing. I’m very, very grateful for tonight. You really surprised me, in a good way.”

He gives you a soft expression that makes your chest warm up. 

“...but I’m letting you know now, I’m not telling anyone how it ended. Not even Hanamaki,”

He pinches your thigh and you yelp, grabbing for his wrist as he continues,

“And you better not tell anyone either.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t! Just don’t start tickling me!”

He flattens his palm against your thigh, leaning over to kiss your pink cheek. 

“Good girl.”

The pet name sends butterflies stirring in your stomach, and you pull him closer to cuddle. 

Matsukawa pulls the covers to settle comfortably over the both of you, tangling your legs together and wrapping a strong arm over you. He settles snug against you, and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“I love you, Issei. So much.”

“I love you too,”

He whispers your name affectionately, kissing your nose this time, as you both let sleep overtake you. 

“I don’t think this relationship is working out.”

“I cheated on you.”

“You’re in denial.”

“Stop looking for excuses!”

“—I don’t love you anymore!”

Matsukawa’s last words to you rattle your sleep addled brain, and you blink awake, the haze of your pleasant memories forgotten. 

Tears sting at your eyes, and you wipe furiously at them as they start to pool. 

Regretting the nap, and your next actions, you pull your phone from the covers to call him. 

You don’t end up building the courage to press the call button in the end, and hastily settle for a text reading ‘I miss you’. 

And god, you miss him so much. 

But the immediate silence that follows puts that pit right back in your stomach. 

You spend the rest of the day, periodically checking your phone for any updates. 

Your hand constantly itches to grab for it in your pocket, and you resist the urge to check less often than you’d hope.

Each time you’re met with an empty notification screen, your lock screen ready to shove a photo of you and Matsukawa in your face. 

But the wound is too fresh to replace it, and you ache to see his face even if it’s through a screen or a photograph on the wall. 

You slip your phone back into your pocket for the millionth time, returning to your tablet to get some work done. 

Every time your stylus meets the screen, you can’t come up with the ideas or muster the creativity to produce anything. 

You miss when Matsukawa would have you snug in his lap, and you could lay your head on his shoulder while sketching away. 

Those moments were second nature to you, you’d grown so accustomed to his company and comfort. You never thought once that something as simple as cuddling on the couch with Matsukawa during downtime wouldn’t be an possibility anymore. 

You never contemplated losing the encouraging words whispered against your ear. About what colors he liked, what a good job you were doing, or even the silly doodles he laughed at when you were getting sidetracked. 

Your head gets stuck in the same cycle you’ve gone through every day since Matsukawa left. 

What could you have said? What could you have done? 

You miss his voice, his warmth, his touch, his face, you miss him. 

You look off and stare out the window, resting your chin against your palm. 

Is this really it?

It feels like your breathing cuts off then, and you feel numb as your chest tightens. 

Despite it all, you feel completely aware, as the thought sits heavy on your mind. Do you really have to let him go?

It’s nearing a month now, and since that moment in your apartment it didn’t take long for your thoughts to go into disarray again. 

You desperately want to believe in Matsukawa, give him the space he clearly needs, but the radio silence ends up driving you crazy. 

You’re left with your heartbreak, your intrusive thoughts, the devil on your shoulder constantly telling you he meant everything he said. 

You’re clinging to anything that’ll convince you Matsukawa loves you, that he wouldn’t leave you like this, but the distance between you two has diminished anything to hold on to. 

All you have to keep you sane are memories of I love you’s. 

But he hadn’t said it in a long time, and he hasn’t been here to give you any semblance of closure, or a reason that doesn’t sound like complete bullshit. 

He’s giving you a million reasons to let him go, but you keep hanging on. 

Normally, you’d be curled up in your sheets letting your emotions run wild, the memory of that night playing back in your head as if it were a big screening of a drama. 

Your friends convinced you to get outside, anything to make the worst seem a little better. You told them you would heed their advice. 

Instead of lying in sorrow at your apartment, you’re at yours and Matsukawa’s favorite cafe. 

Getting out of the apartment was a good idea, your friends were right about that. It never truly felt like yours alone. 

It was yours and Matsukawa’s, everything belonged to the both of you. It was decided together, down to the furniture and the kitchenwares. 

Getting fresh air was healthy for you, your friends weren’t wrong, but coming to this cafe was the worst idea possible. 

You’d been a frequent customer prior to the incident, but you’ve since ghosted the place. You thought it would be fine, just one latte to bring your spirits up. 

But you only managed to satisfy the sick, subconscious urge to feel sorry for yourself in the place you and Matsukawa made memories in together. 

Your favorite drink overdosed with sugars tastes bittersweet on your tongue. 

And it doesn’t help that the smells and images of the cafe are attached to memories that are starting to feel even more bittersweet. 

“...Mm... It tastes great...!”

You struggle to keep your lips from turning down, and even more to swallow down the bitter black coffee. Nonetheless, you flash a smile Matsukawa’s way. 

After Matsukawa had given you his number, your conversations flowed with ease. It was surprisingly natural texting him, and even more so conversing with him over the phone or in person. 

After a few dates, you found yourself at a local cafe with him. 

It seemed to be climbing in popularity, and you’d known Matsukawa was passionate about his coffee.

“You don’t have to pretend to like it.”

He laughs, eyeing the look on your face. 

Your extreme distaste must have been more obvious than you thought, or maybe he’s just more perceptive than he lets on. 

“Okay, you’re right. It’s actually pretty disgusting. How do you drink it like this?!”

You gently slide his coffee cup over, and try not to think too hard and combust when his fingers brush over yours to take it back. 

You also try to convince yourself that the burning heat on your fingers is from the heat seeping from the to-go cup, and not from Matsukawa’s brief touch. 

Taking a swig of your own coffee, you attempt to wash away his coffee’s aftertaste.

“How do you drink it like that?”

He points his finger at your drink. 

“...Fair. I just like coffee with milk and sugar! It’s common.”

“You like your milk and sugar with coffee.”

He teases, expression straight and neutral. You smile thinking that you’re beginning to understand Matsukawa’s sense of humor. 

You poke your tongue out at his deadpan correction, and his eyes flash with amusement. 

“It’s better with flavor, and sugar makes almost anything taste good! You’re just drinking bean juice, but plain and without all the extra stuff.”

“If anything, you’re just drinking bean juice with sugar in it, and that doesn’t sound much better.”

He points out, and you hum at his wit. 

“....I think we’ve reached a stalemate, Matsukawa.”

You pout. He laughs, and it sounds so charming to your ears. 

You hold your hand out to him, and he cuts himself short to peer at it in confusion. 

“Truce. I won’t make fun of your plain bean juice as long as you don’t make fun of my sugary bean juice.”

“I accept. But only if we stop saying bean juice.”

“Deal.”

You accept his hand into a firm shake with a bright smile, and a pink hue creeps up your cheeks when you notice how much bigger his palm is compared to yours. 

You blink when you attempt to pull your hand back and he doesn’t let go. 

“Come on, we’ve got a movie to catch. Don’t wanna miss making fun of the trailers.”

He stands from his seat, pulling you up to your feet. 

Your brain short circuits then. Does he want to hold your hand?

How are the two of you going to hold right hands while walking? 

Would it be too awkward to just let go and try to hold his other hand? But he’s holding his coffee in it!

You don’t have to think much longer on it, Matsukawa’s already swapping his coffee with his other hand, placing his newly freed one into your palm. 

It’s warm from the heat of the coffee, and your heart swells when you come to the realization that he was in fact trying to hold your hand. 

“Ready?”

You glance up to see his expression, and your heart practically skips a beat at the shy look on his face. 

He’s looking for any distraction, sipping at his coffee as he waits for your reaction. 

When he risks a glance at you, he catches the eager smile that spreads across your cheeks. 

You lace your fingers with his, holding his hand tightly,

“Mm. Let’s go!”

After that memory, you start to feel sick. 

You can’t even stomach the coffee anymore, and you toss it in the trash in a rush, ignoring the questioning looks sent your way by the customers and employees. You pull your coat tighter to your body, before hurrying out of the cafe. 

Pacing down the street, you decide to head back to the apartment. 

Anywhere else is just another memory. 

The park, the theatre, restaurants, bars, you can’t even see Hanamaki, and you don’t want to bother your other friends. 

It’s better to wallow in your misery at home than in the public eye, anyways. You can’t stand the looks of confusion or pity being sent your way. 

You kick off your shoes at the door, freezing when you notice the pair that wasn’t there before. 

Is your mind playing tricks on you?

No, Matsukawa took these before he left, you’re almost positive. 

Your knees shake as you take the first step forward, scanning the living room, but there’s no sight of him there. 

When you open the bedroom door, you find him sitting at the edge of the bed. 

The bed you shared together, that you’d slept in alone for a month now. 

When he perks up at the sound of the door swinging open, he’s at a loss for words when he catches your shocked stare. 

Your name leaves his lips, and it’s almost a whisper, so easy to miss, but it’s what you’ve been wanting to hear for weeks now. 

“...here to collect the rest of your things?”

Your voice is shaky at best, lacking nerve. 

“No, no. I... really wanted to talk to you—”

“Now you wanna talk?!”

For the briefest of moments, you felt happy to hear he wasn’t back to grab his things and leave you again, but it’s quickly replaced by your pent up emotions. 

He opens his mouth, but you don’t let him speak. 

“I get you needed space. I didn’t try to call you, I didn’t go to Hanamaki’s. I was happy to give you time, but what the fuck Issei? You ghosted me! I kept convincing myself that it was my fault, that I should’ve been better, or I should’ve done more for you. And you left me completely alone and heartbroken!”

You’re panting after the outburst, but there’s still so much more you want to say,

“You told me you wanted to break up, you lied to my face, and then you keep me in the dark! Did I not deserve at least a small explanation? Fuck, Issei, you’re giving me a million reasons to walk away!”

You don’t want to, of course, but the words spill out with everything that had remained unspoken in his absence. 

Your lips purse shut, and your heart aches when you see his jaw clenched tight and his watery expression. 

“Issei... I just need one good one to stay.”

You finish with a sigh, gazing up at him hopefully. You desperately want to reach out and hold his hands, but you clench your fists at your sides and keep yourself back. 

The silence is deafening, the tension and dread in the air thick as you swallow tightly. 

“...I love you. I don’t think I could live without you.”

Matsukawa finally says, staring at you resolutely. He immediately panics at the statement though, 

“Fuck, I shouldn’t talk like that. I meant to say, I want to... keep living my life with you, or something like that.”

He runs a hand through his hair nervously before clicking his tongue,

“Shit, that sounded dumb. Ahhh... I’ve actually been seeing someone...”

His eyes widen at his own words, and he quickly waves his hands as if to wipe the words out of existence,

“N-Not like that though! You were right, actually, I lied about... cheating on you. I talked to Hanamaki, I’ve actually been getting therapy now. I haven’t had many sessions yet but...”

He trails off, fidgeting and wringing his hands together as your brain catches up with all the information he’s dumped on you. 

Your eyes water as you lunge forward to pull him into a tight hug,

“That’s all I needed to hear!”

You cry into his chest, and he wraps his arms around you, petting your head softly, he missed holding you like this, 

“That I got a therapist?”

“Not that silly,”

You whine, pulling away to peer up at him through teary-eyed lashes,

“That you love me. I haven’t heard it in awhile. I’m sorry I forgot... I just really wanted to hear it.”

He stares at you with a regretful expression, brushing your tears away. It only makes you cry harder, strange happiness filling you that he’s finally here in person to wipe your tears away. 

“I’m sorry. I love you. I had a hard time believing someone like you could love someone like me. I know you were always there to support me and love me with everything you have, but I kept thinking you deserved better,”

He tucks his chin on top of your head and pulls you back in, close to his chest,

“And that was selfish of me to decide for you. I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry I pushed you away.”

You can hear how shaky his voice is, and press your face to his sweater. Your tears drip down and catch the soft fabric, and you think about how hard it must’ve been for him to come to terms with himself. 

“But you really do deserve better,”

You pull away to scold him for that but he’s quick to interrupt,

“And I’ll be better for you if you’ll let me. I’ll work hard on handling these thoughts and anxieties.”

“Issei...”

You bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, and it’s your turn to wipe the tears brimming at his eyes,

“Only if you accept that I can do better for you, and let me support you every step of the way.”

“Deal.”

You slide your hands around the back of his neck and lean in close. 

At your gesture, he instinctively brings his hands to your sides, and tilts his face towards yours. 

Your lips catch his in a kiss, filled with all the bitter and sweet emotions. Your longing and heartache fades away with your growing promise to each other. 

“I love you, I love you.”

He says between each kiss, and you can’t help but smile into it each time. 

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the absolute ANGST of the first part and a majority of this part, but I thrive in chaos. 
> 
> I’ll go for something fluffier next.  
> Tell me your thoughts in the comment, and who you want next! Akaashi, or Oikawa?


End file.
